Plastic Brits insult our Games

When the American-born Tiffany Porter took her first, awkward bow as captain of the British athletics team, everyone was told she did not deserve the label 'Plastic Brit'.

Who said so? Britain's head coach, Charles van Commenee, while alongside him world 5,000m champion Mo Farah complained he felt 'disgusted' by the line of questioning Porter had to face.

And so a Dutchman brought up in Amsterdam and the Somalian-born runner who lives in Portland, Oregon were on hand to refute the accusations that Porter was not 'British enough'.

Bit of a Tiff: Porter (left) in action at the World Indoor Championships on Friday

I'm not sure whether this proves the Brits do irony better than any other nation or the exact opposite. It's all too confusing.

But, ladies and gentlemen, this sums up the problem of nationality in a nutshell. The world is shrinking. Travel has broken boundaries. Nationality is not as straightforward a call as it was a generation or two ago. It's often a choice, however complex and emotive. Especially in sport, with all its flag-waving tribalism and patriotic baggage.

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'I have always regarded myself as British, American and Nigerian - I'm all three,' said the new GB captain Porter recently. Not quite the message a British captain usually trumpets.

But I can understand that. Because of my family background, I'm English and I'm Irish, depending on the day and the drink in my hand. If a certain someone asks me nicely I'll be Welsh for a while too, just to keep them happy.

But the boundaries are now so blurred when it comes to defining who is and who is not qualified to represent their country that we are fast approaching the point where any regulations might as well be scrapped.

Or maybe we can go through the England rugby union side and discuss it with New Zealand-born Dylan Hartley, American-born Alex Corbisiero, South African duo Mouritz Botha and Bradley Barritt and ferry-jumping Samoan Manu Tuilagi, who entered Britain on a holiday visa, stayed on illegally and had to appeal against deportation.

Why should our Team GB Olympians be any less opportunistic when it comes to the concept of nationality? Van Commenee thinks the very idea is 'a nonsense' and has clearly wrapped athletes from elsewhere in the Union flag to boost Britain's medal potential.

Aside from Porter, there is Shara Proctor, a long jumper from Anguilla; Michael Bingham, a 400m runner from North Carolina born to an English father; Shana Cox, a New Yorker with British-born parents and Yamile Aldama, a triple jumper born in Cuba, who represented Sudan, but married a Scotsman and moved to the UK. That's one melting pot.

No rules were broken, they are all perfectly legitimate recruits, but the regulations are so ridiculously lax the phenomenon of 'athlete tourism' is allowed to thrive.

By any measure of fairness, it is certainly galling for athletes who have spent their lives aspiring to compete at the London Olympics and developing their talent in this country to discover that the likes of Porter can be parachuted into the team at the last minute.

Case for the defence: Mo Farah (left) has labelled the criticism of Porter's appointment 'disgusting'

Irked by an enquiry from this newspaper's reporter Jon McEvoy about whether, in keeping with her new captain's role, she could recite a little of God Save The Queen on the eve of the World Indoor Championships, Van Commenee said: 'I chose the team captain for her leadership skills, her athletic skills and her credibility … not her voice'.

I defer to his knowledge on all, except credibility. Because it's hard to see how Porter can be a credible British captain ahead of the likes of Jess Ennis.

Porter was born in Ypsilanti, Michigan, to an English mother and a Nigerian father and she still lives and trains in the USA. She won silver for the USA at the World Juniors in 2006 and only started using her British passport in 2010 when she failed to make the cut for the American team.

She headed to the UK, was welcomed with open arms, handed a GB vest and some generous funding because she offered a better hope of boosting the UK's medal tally than the existing, and somewhat ordinary, contenders.

The merits of her selection are a moot point now, but for Van Commenee to make her captain is a needless slap in the face for all those who have proudly represented Britain - and only Britain - for many years.

The country is now heading down the path well trampled by the likes of Bahrain and Qatar where overseas medal prospects are lured in. It's cheaper and quicker than developing athletes, but how much pride would the nation take in following the sort of practices employed by Russia, for instance, who recently gave a South Korean three-time gold medal speed skater special dispensation to become a citizen in time for the 2014 Winter Games - which happen to be in Russia.

The UK is not far off that kind of cynicism. Out of around 550 members of Team GB, approximately 50 will be foreign-born athletes with dual nationality who jumped on board the Olympic bandwagon after London was selected to host the Games.

Britain has imported the wrestling team almost as a job lot from Ukraine and Bulgaria. Add to that a British handball team that has 19 foreign-born players, mostly from Scandinavia; a British basketball side that has 10 players born as far afield as Nigeria, Holland, Sudan and Canada, and nine more foreign-born competitors in the GB volleyball side and it's clear the team meeting will resemble Heathrow Airport's Terminal Three during a baggage handlers strike.

If the concept of nationality is watered down any further and talent continues to be effectively 'bought', the whole Olympic ethos essentially become meaningless.

One could argue athletes might as well dispense with the flag and just run or compete for themselves, not their country. But then some appear to be doing that already.

Three jeers for Flavio

Pure panto: Former QPR chairman Flavio Briatore

If you watch one football documentary this season, make it The Four Year Plan, a fascinating look behind the scenes of Queens Park Rangers’ cack-handed attempts to gain promotion.

Don’t miss the moment of comedy when the former ‘chairman’ and Troll doll lookalike Flavio Briatore stands outside the ground and yells this infamous sentence at supporters.

‘GIVE ME THE NAME OF THE ONES BOOING ME — OR I SELL THE CLUB!’

That’s
right. He wanted supporters to provide him with the identity of each
and every fan who had jeered him, or else he would stomp away with his
cash.

It was beyond parody.
But if you really were one of the hundreds of people who booed Briatore
that day, do let me know via the usual email and Twitter addresses. I
may even run a ‘roll of honour’ on this page in recognition of your fine
work.

Courting trouble

Briitsh badminton player Chris Adcock
was given a choice. He was told that if he wanted to improve his
chances of qualifying for the Olympics he would have to dump his mixed
doubles partner for another woman.

There was an important complication: his on-court partner also happened to be his long-standing girlfriend.

So did Adcock stand by Gabby White,
his team-mate during a national title triumph, even if the Olympics
eventually proved out of reach for them both?

Did he hell. He paired up with Imogen Bankier and left White with little chance of competing at the Games.

The decision has created bad blood,
with the women and friends swapping bitchy tweets — Bankier sniping at
White’s service and the White camp accusing her of being ‘sour’.

On one side there are guys who think,
‘yes’. On the other are women who have reinterpreted the word
‘shuttlecock’ as an instruction.

Gamely, Adcock himself said: ‘I don’t think there was any sensitivity about the decision’.

No, of course there wasn’t. But just
in case, Adcock had best not for a short while risk asking his
girlfriend if she would mind ironing his Team GB tracksuit. Say, the
next 50 years or so.

A sickening bounty

One the most sickening acts of sporting cynicism has been uncovered in the United States.

NFL investigators have produced evidence that New Orleans Saints American footballers were rewarded with cash sums for seriously injuring their opponents.

Dubbed ‘bounties’, these under-the-counter payments were set at $1,500 (£950) for a ‘knockout’ — a hit that put a rival completely out of the game, and $1,000 (£640) for a ‘cart-off’ — a collision that caused an opponent to leave the field on a stretcher.

American football can often be brutal. It is a high impact, explosive sport and inevitably there are casualties. Players are concussed, limbs are fractured and, on occasion, even necks are broken.

But a line is crossed when it is a deliberate policy to injure or maim an opponent — and then celebrate with a ‘bonus’ payment.

Imagine if a footballer received cash for breaking Lionel Messi’s leg? That is the level we are at here. It defies belief.

So I hope everyone caught up in this ‘bounty’ scandal is banned for life. Let that be their reward.

The best by smiles

Asking whether Lionel Messi is a ‘greater’ player than Pele or Diego Maradona is a largely futile exercise.

Comparisons through the years are nigh-on impossible and the best that we can agree on is each is the outstanding talent of his generation.

Plenty of reason to smile: Lionel Messi (left) hit five goals against Bayer Leverkusen on Wednesday

But there is one reason to suggest Messi may indeed be on a higher plane of brilliance. It is because of something we definitely can quantify, regardless of the era and changes in the level of athleticism.

Messi plays with a permanent smile on his face. I’ve never seen a footballer perform with such joy. For that, he gets my vote.

All aboard for Ukraine

I’m revising the contents of my
luggage before a trip to the European Championship after hearing about
the lengths to which Ukrainian customs staff are going to provide a
welcome.

All 500 border officials have
received free professional make-up and hairdressing tutorials. What’s
more, they had their photographs taken and were told to replicate the
look throughout the tournament. Immaculate uniforms, blemish-free skin,
short skirts and high heels are mandatory.

My plan is to land in Kiev with a few
hundred cigarettes and extra bottles of booze stashed in my suitcase.
That should at least earn me a comprehensive pat down. Bet I still get
the one with a moustache and a rubber glove, though.